Will justice ever rain as heavily as this sorrow?

 

An Article by Soumita Saha: The soul of Durga Puja, once fervently woven into the cultural fabric of Bengal, now seems to falter, overshadowed by the grim realities of delayed justice and violence. The haunting memory of Doctor's rape and murder while on duty has cast a shadow over the state, where the homecoming of Goddess Durga is traditionally revered. It is a bitter irony that in a land where Devi is celebrated as "Soubhagyam Arogyam"—the goddess bestowing prosperity and health—those who served as our saviors during the pandemic remain unsafe in their workplaces.

The excruciating delay in justice for such heinous crimes erodes public faith in the state's commitment to women’s empowerment. Coupled with this, the ominous forecast of heavy rains and the formation of low-pressure belts dampen the anticipation surrounding Durga Puja. With marketplaces under threat and Puja organizers in distress, the joy once synonymous with this festival is under siege.

As Kumari Puja is performed across pandals to honor the divine in the form of young girls, recent tragedies—such as the brutal rape and murder of a 10-year-old in South 24 Parganas—jarringly juxtapose this ideal with the horrific realities faced by the daughters of Bengal. Arson and protests in the wake of this heinous crime reflect a society grappling with deep-rooted wounds, wounds time and tradition seem powerless to heal. Justice, long overdue, must not falter further in a state where the divine is believed to dwell among its women.

On 'Shoshi', the sixth day of Navaratri, we gather to celebrate *bodhon*, the awakening of the goddess, invoking her divine presence with reverence and devotion. Yet, this year, our hearts are heavy with sorrow, for on *Dwitwiya*, the second day of Navaratri, a 10-year-old girl suffered a horrific fate, shattering the sanctity of this sacred time.

We hold the belief that Devi resides within our daughters, a conviction symbolized by the 'Kumari Puja' , where young girls are honored as living embodiments of the goddess. But this unspeakable atrocity stands in cruel defiance of that belief, mocking the very ideals we cherish. It feels as though the *visharjan*, the symbolic immersion of the goddess, has occurred prematurely—before the awakening, before we could even seek her blessings. 

This tragic event not only desecrates our faith but also forces us to confront the harrowing reality that our daughters, whom we revere as the living goddesses, remain unprotected and vulnerable. The ritual of 'bodhon' is now tinged with despair, for how do we summon the goddess into a world that continues to betray the sanctity of her presence within our daughters? We are rendered speechless. Every time a horrific incident unfolds, the voices of regression resurface, quick to place blame—on a woman’s attire, or the hour she dared to step outside. But what can they say about this tragedy? The victim was merely ten years old—innocent, untouched by any of the excuses they spin to justify the indefensible.

As rains pour over Bengal, some point to the low-pressure belt over the Bay of Bengal as the cause. Yet, who can say for certain? Perhaps these are the tears of the Mother Goddess herself, weeping for her daughters—those whom she is meant to protect, yet who are left vulnerable to the cruelties of the world. Age, innocence, and duty—none of these safeguard them from the violence that lurks in the shadows. 

The skies open in mourning, as if echoing the grief that words fail to capture. The tears of the goddess flow, not just for one, but for all the daughters whose dignity has been desecrated. As we look to the heavens, we are left wondering—will justice ever rain as heavily as this sorrow?